chres·tom·a·thy (kr-stm-th)
n. pl. chres·tom·a·thies
1. A selection of literary passages, usually by one
author.
2. An anthology used in studying a language.
3. Another damn stupid liberal blog

Monday, September 01, 2014

Tolerance Means Escaping Ourselves

If it were my decision to make, I’d make my frame a little
less broad, a little less prominent. In group pictures, I stick out prominently
as the largest person in the frame. In a recent conference photo, I am visible
by the space I take up and the peculiar way my head juts out from a row of
smiling faces. Locating me is difficult. Shorter people usually have a greater
chance of having most of their front side towards the camera. I’m the sort of
person who has to be identified as back
row, third from right.

And by large, I don’t mean overweight, I mean big.
I’m six feet tall, but my shoulders are broad and massive and my feet are like
boat paddles. I weigh around 270 pounds but my body type holds it well. I
always knew I’d be this size in the end when I was still growing, but it never
seemed like a good fit even then. If I could have made the decision myself, I’d be 100
pounds lighter and more average sized in build, but none of us can escape
biology.

Let me put it a different way. I've been told that partners
past have found me attractive and appealing because, on a subliminal level,
they feel safe with me. I can protect them from harm, or at least they hope I
can. When my temper flares, however, I’ve produced a consistent response in
others I find I can limit with effort but cannot eliminate. My girth and
broadness have led some to form automatic erroneous conclusions.

I assure you
that I’m totally harmless, but without knowing me intimately, I can be easily
misunderstood. Some years ago I became a feminist because I believed in
gender equality. I still do. But I have learned to manage my anger and
frustration, in spite of the guilty-before-proven-innocent culture I confront
more than I would like. Attitudes like those are a harsh life lesson that none
of us can fully escape ourselves. None of us can escape our outsides, our
gender, and all that defines our basic identity. What keeps me safe also
constantly reminds me that I feel ill-suited to this frame and this weight.
That said, we don’t often engage with others, opening a needed conversation
about the various ways anger and conflict affects each of us.

When I lose my temper, I never resort to name-calling or
insults. Though I’m not proud of it, I wound with my presentation of the facts.
The truth can be more damning than lies and supposition could ever hope to be.
In my religious work, the goals of others and behavior patterns are quite
different. I notice many people want to be nice, first and
foremost.

My feminist friends and fellow writers take the exact
opposite approach, feeling that confrontation should be used with reckless
abandon. I’m not sure whether there is any middle ground between the two, but I
have most certainly sought to straddle the gap between them.

I take no offense if I end up in a vocal argument with
either another man or with a woman. In the past, I’ve been dressed down by
Sunday School teachers and grade school educators of both sexes. I can curse a
blue streak and fight hostility with hostility, but I’d much rather be engaged
in conversation without pyrotechnics. I try to be a good ally to those
marginalized groups who need allies, but like everyone else, the life I inhabit
is not colored black and white alone.

When problems with communication show up, as they always do,
I’ve been understood and misunderstood. I’ve been a source of comfort to many
but I know I haven’t always been seen fairly on my own terms. It’s easy to make
assumptions when facts are not plain to the eye.

My last really serious argument, I am sad to say, concerned
myself and a very jealous boyfriend. His wife was forced, at his insistence, to
cease being Facebook friends with me and forbidden to communicate with me in
any way. I felt this was unfair on his part, but didn’t want to press my luck.
Argument isn’t rational, even though we may think we are being rational.

Maybe we don’t like to hear ourselves and our actions when we are angry. I surely don't. I'm sure what I just wrote, on further contemplation, makes me seem about 14 years old. What felt so justified in the moment may need to be looked at differently. Arguments not based on logic can quickly be transformed into violence. Centuries of societal conditioning and hard work can give way when fear wins the day.

I grew up hearing the stories of my father, who was a Grade
A hell raiser before he settled down, deliberately picking fights with those
foolish enough to draw his fire. His broad shoulders and build were transferred
to me by way of the miracle of simple genetics. I also acquired his temper,
though that came from direct experience, not genes.

The funny thing is that I believe in big vocabulary words
like Peace and always will. What is ineffectual and weak, however, always gets
pushed around by the strong. Whether it be a matter of race or of sexual
orientation, familiar old patterns, more often than not, win the day. Bemoan it
if you like, but I'd prefer we find a solution than continue to be pushed
around and coerced.

This isn’t to say that I believe in survival of the fittest, either. My faith insists upon a persistent belief that conflict can be removed by the assiduous study and practice of conflict resolution. In my family, I was warned repeatedly to avoid people who were so liberal that their brains were coming out their ears. Now I’m a different kind of liberal with my own belief system, seeking never to be the cultural stereotype about which I was warned. I still measure myself constantly against this standard, whether I seek to do it or not.

Our understanding of ourselves as we are is not
cut-and-dried. Our ambitions are always held in tension and in sharp contrast
with our limitations. And in the end, we are only a combination
between our personal aspirations and how we are perceived by others. We can only
define ourselves to a degree, and either we embrace other flawed creatures as
they are or we live a life stuck entirely inside our heads. We need a
combination between our best face and our worst moment. That is how we live
with others. That is how we live together.